Teen Titans: Robin's Reckoning
by Melimsah
Summary: A one-shot based on the Batman: Animated Series episode, what if Tony Zucco had crossed paths with Robin while he was with the Titans, with Batman so far away? How would the final encounter go down? R/R


**Teen Titans: Robin's Reckoning**

**Rating: **I'll say it's T. I was gonna put K+ until it said "No serious injury." (ppppfffffft, K+ is lik PG - and how many deaths have happened in Disney movies, huh?)

**Disclaimer: **As usual, nothing here is mine save for the ways I've strung the words together.

**Summary: **Based on the Batman: Animated Series episode, what if Tony Zucco had crossed paths with Robin in Jump City? How would the final encounter go down?

**Author's Note:**

**_If you haven't seen the Batman: the Animated Series episode "Robin's Reckoning," you really wont understand what is happening here._**

If you want to proceed anyways... here's the way the story works out. In the episode, Batman and Robin apprehend some people working for a guy named Marin. When Bruce makes Robin stay behind, Robin starts snooping in the computer to figure out why - it's because Marin is Tony Zucco, the man that murdered Robin's parents. Robin and Batman both go searching for him. Robin finally gets his hands on Zucco, but Batman stops him from doing the unthinkable. (The episode is amazing).

I really wondered what it would be like if it'd happened during the Teen Titans continuity. I would've written out the whole story a la RotJ... but most of it would just be retelling exactly what happened in the episode, and I just wasn't interested. However, I was really interested in the ending...

Basically - Tony escaped Gotham and Batman and built up a gang in Jump City under another name. Robin, being Robin, recognizes his alias and goes to find him. The other Titans figure out what's going on (with the help of Batman) and try to stop him... but Robin finds Zucco first.

Honestly, I just didn't want to write out the whole story. I'm sorry. But you'll love what I did write. :) And this means I can keep focused on other stories! One shots are good (right?)

* * *

The sound of gunfire was replaced with the squeal of tires. Robin's motorcycle didn't even sway as it landed at full speed, shooting straight for the ugly mug of Tony Zucco. A green-gloved hand snapped out, silently grabbing the lapel of Zucco's gaudy business suit, his hold firm as the motorcycle shot off down the boardwalk, dragging the Gotham mobster along in tow. Zucco cried out desperately, his limps skipping and flailing over the wooden planks, like a ragdoll pulled along the playground by its hair. A particularly loud scream escaped him as a shoe went flying, skipping and tumbling amidst gray plumes of exhaust from the Titan's bike.

Down the abandoned pier of the old boardwalk, tires drumming rhythmically along the weather-beaten planks. Further cries of panic and pain from the battered crook, left unheeded by the hero clutching his collar. Finally, as they approached the end of the pier, Robin's grip slackened, and Zucco fell, tumbling violently along the wooden ground as gravity forced his forward momentum to an abrupt and painful stop.

Braking caused the tires to squeal once more, the bike banking hard in a skid, barely managing to stop short of the pier's dead end. The Boy Wonder didn't even wait for the engine to cut out, his helmet clattering to the ground, his cape fluttering behind him as he charged forward.

Despite his cuts, his bruises and splinters, the old Gotham crook was already on his feet, bringing up the machine gun he'd managed to keep his grip on through the whole journey. But Robin was quicker, the Boy Wonder's heel swinging around and knocking the weapon from Zucco's shaking hands.

"I don't belie—URGH!"

Zucco had begun to say something, but Robin didn't let him finish, his fist colliding with the crook's face and sending him sprawling across the ground. He leaned over the villain, looking into that face that had haunted his nightmares since he was a child, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"You're through, Zucco," he hissed in a dangerous voice. "Forever."

"Is that so, birdie boy?" the man snarled, blood spitting from his mouth and landing on Robin's cheek. Zucco clenched a hand into a fist beside his ear, and then launched into a punch with all his strength and weight behind it. But Robin caught it easily, stopping the attack cold dead. The crook's eyes widened in disbelief, Robin's fingers tensing on his knuckles, threatening to shatter bone as he leaned in closer. The boy's face barely showed any emotion at all, only his narrowing, blazing eyes revealing his wrath and hatred. His voice was like venom as he murmured, so low the crook could barely hear him.

"I've waited a long time…"

Gloved hands seized him by the jacket, hurtling him across the splintered ground, into a pile of barrels and boxes discarded on one side of the pier. The criminal could barely move before being launched through the air again, slamming into a wooden post with enough force to crack a rib or two. The ocean seethed and churned beneath them, beckoning through the gaps in the wood, the rushing sound of the tide overpowering the grunts and cries as Robin landed a few well-placed kicks and punches into Zucco's stomach and face.

"No, stop…" the crook gasped. But Robin only seized him again without one sound. He wrenched him to his feet, and yanked him around, throwing him by the arm, so the criminal staggered backwards across the pier. He collided with the wooden railing on the far side, and with a terrible splintering crack, the old wooden beams of the railing snapped and plummeted to the water far below. Zucco cried out as his balance teetered toward the same fate, a hand reaching out and grasping for the jagged end of one of the broken beams to prevent his fall.

Robin hurried forward and grabbed him, pulling him a little away from the ten-story drop. But as he stood there, with his fingers trembling as they clutched the woven threads of the mobster's stained silk coat, he found himself glancing over Zucco's shoulder, at the empty space open behind him. His lips were stretched back in a terrible grimace, eyes blazoning like a sniper's sight. After only a moment's hesitation, he took a small step forward, allowing the crook's balance to shift back towards the edge, his grip on the man's coat the only thing preventing gravity from taking him into the ocean's dark, merciless depths.

"No!" the crook gasped desperately as gravity yanked on him. His hands scrambled to grab hold of Robin's wrists, face twitching and shaking in blind panic as he stared frantically up at the Boy Wonder's wrathful gaze. "Don't! Please!"

But Robin barely heard him, could barely even see him through the lens of fury, of long-seated anguish, that had slipped between his retinas and his mind. He could not see the fear in the other's eyes, could not feel his shaking form beneath his grasp. All he saw was the sneering, malevolent face of his own memories, a flash of recognition as the man sauntered past him, walking away from the big top, walking away from the handiwork that would cause the world famous Graysons to fall to their deaths in front of their young child. All Robin could feel was the pure, unblemished desire for absolute revenge. Payback for that one terrible night, payback for not only their lives, but for his own. He had lost everything when that cord snapped…. Everything….

He grew slowly aware of the man's weight pulling on his shoulders. He suddenly began to hear the roaring crash of the waves on the rocks far below them

It would be so easy… All he would have to do is let go… and Zucco would know exactly what falling to hell feels like….

"Robin! That's enough!"

A voice managed to wrestle its way through the fog of unadulterated hatred that had enveloped his mind. He glanced over his shoulder, despite himself, eyes blazing with a wrathful fire, the taste of temptation on his lips.

He barely registered their faces. All he knew was the annoyance of their presence, of the interruption. His fingers tightened on Zucco's jacket, ready to shove him over. He looked back at the man's face, at that terrible, cold face.

"You can't let your emotions get the best of you, man!"

"Robin, put him down."

Something snapped in Robin's chest, heaving poisonous words through his throat like sandpaper. "What the hell do any of you know?" he spat over his shoulder, eyes wild with hostility. "You don't know how I feel! How could any of you know how I feel?"

"Trust us, Robin. We know."

"Let him go, or we will make you…"

Robin gritted his teeth so tightly he felt they would shatter. He turned back to look at the man in his clutches, at Zucco's wide, horrified gaze.

All he had to do was let go… like a snapped rope, just let him fall…. Nothing to catch him…. No net to save him….

Suddenly, he cried out, two sets of hands grabbing his arms and wrenching him away. His fingers were suddenly agonizingly alone, grappling at empty air desperately as the two strongest Titans easily dragged him backwards down the pier, away from Zucco, who collapsed in a shaking heap safely on the wooden deck.

"Let me go!" the teen shrieked, his voice cracking as he struggled with everything he had. "Let me go, you don't get it! None of you do!"

"Maybe not like you do, but we get it. And we're not about to let you do something stupid!"

Robin fought to yank himself out of their grip one more time, but Cyborg and Starfire were holding onto him far too tightly. The strength of their grasps hurt his arms – they were clearly not about to let him go. His breathing was ragged and painful, his arms still trembling with desire and rage. With a simultaneous twist of their hands, they forced him down to his knees, holding him in place.

He growled with furious indignation, tears streaming down his cheeks. It wasn't fair! He finally had him! He _finally_ had the man who'd killed his parents, who'd torn his life apart, and he couldn't even take him in himself! It wasn't like he was _really_ going to kill him! He… wouldn't have…

He swallowed back the sick feeling forming in his gut, the rage-fueled fog of irrationality beginning to dissipate. He blinked, as though suddenly able to see again. His eyes darted behind his mask, staring down at the wooden beams below him, through them, to the crashing, roaring sea beyond. The severity of it all suddenly collapsed heavily on his shoulders.

_What… did I almost do…?_

His friends were speaking to him, but he barely registered their words. He slowly lifted his head, allowing his eyes to journey back up, to look down at that ghost from his past with a different pair of eyes. The man cowered upon the ground, shuddering with the vestiges of panic from nearly falling to his death. He was flanked on either side by both Raven and Beast Boy, who were looking at Robin with rightful disapproval. Robin swallowed, peering harder at the man in the tweed coat. He expected to see the remnants of terror in the crook's face, expected to see him looking like a cornered rat, knowing he was caught, knowing he faced years in jail.

But instead, all he saw was that malevolent, determined snarl… that same one he'd seen during fitful dreams.

Only this time, it became suddenly, horribly clear that this face was not the one that'd been staring at him from his past. This one stared at him from the present, eyes glinting with a menacing look.

It was then that he saw the small handgun clenched close to the crook's body, pointed directly at him.

A concealed weapon….

And no one else had noticed, Raven and Beast Boy still looking at him.

He jerked with panic, a shout of warning and fear tearing through his throat. He couldn't move, their grasps still tight on his arms. Someone had to do something. They had to stop him, before he fired!

But none of them could react in time.

Silenced thunder slammed into him, knocking the wind out of his lungs as excruciating pain ruptured through his chest and stomach. His eyes bugged, lungs unable to pull in a breath as he stared out at the suddenly slowing scene before him. At Cyborg's arm, sweeping into view, curling around him and protecting him. Plating and circuitry bursting through the air as the remaining three bullets shattered the robotic arm and wrist. He saw Beast Boy morphing into a mighty ape-like creature, grabbing the crook's gun by the barrel and crushing it in his fist like it were made of paper, before swinging the ball of the same fist right into Zucco's conniving little face. The world shifted, the wooden ground beneath him suddenly becoming so much closer, his arms free from the vice-like grip of his friends and his body slumping against one of them on his way to the ground. Their voices called for him from an ever-increasing distance, the words reaching his ears warbled and foreign-sounding. His hand felt warm and sticky with his own blood. The ocean air felt frozen on his skin. He still couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure he could anymore.

His vision began to dim as he stared out at Zucco's bloody, but smirking, face.

…so this was it… eight years, and Zucco had finally finished the job….

As the world began to fade, though, he found that he didn't feel scared.

After all… he missed them terribly…. He would be with them soon….

As the last of his consciousness began to slip, he thought he heard someone calling for him. Not any of his friends. Not his parents on the other side.

No… it sounded… like him…

"Bruce…" he croaked barely above a whisper, the metallic tang of blood overwhelming and consuming. His vision had dimmed to darkness, his mind spinning inside his skull. He was suddenly 9 years old again, sitting in an empty, cold bedroom, looking up at a familiar face. The face of the man who'd taken him in, without question and without hesitation. The man who had cared for him when no one else would.

"Bruce…?" he asked in a small voice. He could still taste blood as he spoke, and he wasn't sure he was speaking out loud or in his memory. "Does the hurt… ever go away…? Does it…?"

The man looked at him. His handsome, gentle face looked sorrowful, uncertain of how to answer, his own pain clear in his face, which suddenly looked much older than his years. He opened his mouth, ready to respond, a hand reaching out toward him, to maybe touch his shoulder, or his head, to do something to try and comfort him from his pain. But before that touch could happen, before a single word could leave his lips, he was gone… The room was gone…. Everything was gone… and he found himself plummeting through an endless darkness, to an unknown landing. No net to save him. Not even a grappling hook could help him now.

Everything was gone… he'd lost everything…

…no…he wasn't the one who had lost everything… not this time….

_Bruce… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…_

_

* * *

_

When he opened his eyes, he was a little alarmed to discover that the afterlife apparently began with the searing brightness of an incandescent lamp. A familiar tinny, sour scent wafted his senses, and a low metronomic beeping scratched at his ear. He felt dizzy, and nauseated, like he was somehow upside down, right side up, and backwards, all at the same time. It took some time for him to comprehend the very notion of gravity, finally realizing he could feel it's tug on his back, pulling him into the soft surface of mattress and pillows.

….and then it began to dawn. He wasn't dead after all.

He blinked, and slowly realized that he wasn't alone. A shadow obstructed the blinding lighting above him, the stark contrast causing a strain on his eyes and pounding head. He squinted, trying to make out the face. As recognition seized him, disbelief quickly followed.

"B-bruce…?" he rasped weakly.

But he wasn't imagining it. It wasn't just Bruce – it was Batman, cowl, cape and all. Robin wondered dully how he hadn't managed to make out the pointed ears of his mask any sooner.

"Welcome back," the ol' man said with his usual steady drone. Anyone else would have mistaken his tone for apathy, disappointment, or even malcontent, but Robin was able to detect that honest concern that was interwoven in his words. The boy swallowed hard, and suddenly, stupidly, tried to sit himself up, rewarding his efforts with enormous shooting pain and blinding flashes behind his eyes.

"Careful, Dick," the older man murmured, hands gentle as he helped his old sidekick situate himself comfortably on the bed. "You definitely don't want to do that. Your injuries have a long way to heal."

A wince remained plastered on Robin's face for a long moment. The Titan leader carefully sucked in shallow but careful breaths to try and will the pain down to a more bearable level. His head spun and churned, and he was sure he was on the brink of blacking out again. After what felt like decades, the pain slowly receded into a dull but relentless ache across his chest and stomach. Finally, he peeked through salty vision, fighting to breathe normally as he looked back at that familiar face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a hoarse voice, sounding far more feeble than he would've liked.

"Your friends contacted me about what was happening. I knew this was where I needed to be."

Robin nodded slowly, but his brain was fighting hard to understand. He heard him, but his words made no sense. His mind, and especially his memory, felt marred and muddled, like it'd spent weeks on the tumble setting of a commercial grade clothes drier. He could only remember bits and pieces of what'd happened after Zucco had….

….Zucco….

His fingers curled into fists at his side, and he swallowed down the sick feeling rising in his throat. Tony Zucco… Everything began to flood back at once: how close he'd come to letting Zucco fall to his death; how his friends had had to forcibly restrain him; how Zucco had opened fire on him…

He slowly began to recall what'd happened after that, though. The flashes of consciousness between pain and numbness. The voices of his friends pleading with him to hang on. They were faint, hazy, even in his own memory, like he'd heard them from the other side of a thick wall.

….and somehow, he knew, he just knew… Bruce had been there, too…. He faintly recalled hearing his voice among the cries of the others.

Confusion clutched him tightly around the chest. But, wait, how could that be? The only way that Bruce could have been there that night was if he had left Gotham the moment the Titans had contacted him…

…and that was it, wasn't it? Bruce hadn't come to Jump City, wasn't standing there with him now because he had nearly died. Bruce had come to Jump City to try and stop him, in person, from making a terrible, horrible mistake. The very mistake Bruce had almost made years before… to stop him from stepping over that line….

An overpowering surge of emotion charged through his heart. He swallowed hard, a painful lump appearing in his throat.

"I'm sorry…" he managed to croak, the growing tide of emotions growing more evident in his weak face. "You were right to try and stop me…. You knew I would take it too personally…."

Bruce didn't speak a moment. His eyes were soft, a strange contrast to the harsh exoskeleton of his mask.

"It's not that, Robin. It's not that, at all…."

Robin looked up at him, eyebrows knitting in a combination of confusion and astonishment. Bruce looked away, as though trying to decide what to say next. He rubbed his neck.

"Zucco has already taken so much, has already caused you so much pain… I couldn't bear the thought that he would…" Bruce's voice faltered a moment, and he turned fully away, as though embarrassed by his own words "…would take you, too…."

Robin gaped up at him for a long, quiet moment, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. This was far more sentimental than Bruce ever got nowadays, far too honest and revealing. He seriously couldn't believe Bruce was actually telling him this.

Then a voice spoke in the back of his mind, as though to remind him.

_Dick… he almost _did_ take you, too…_

That lump in the back of his throat doubled in side, and he tried to swallow it away. His eyes flickered back up to the man sitting beside him, the one who had been there for him when his life had fallen apart… the man who'd raised him nearly half his life.

_Zucco has taken away so much… but if he hadn't…. I'd never have met Bruce… I would never be Robin… I wouldn't have my friends…._

_And if I'd died, Bruce would've lost…._

"I'm sorry, Bruce…" he whispered, wiping away tears that had begun to well up with the inside of his wrist. "I… I didn't…."

"I know, Dick." Bruce turned to look at him, his face kind and fatherly. He laid a hand down on his shoulder. "You just rest, okay? Zucco is behind bars and will be brought to justice. You just need to rest and heal."

"Okay, partner," Robin murmured, a smile playing his lips. He didn't care that they didn't fight crime together anymore – the word "partner" felt right. It was the next best thing to calling him father, or admitting that he loved him like one. There was no need to say it, for either of them to say it.

But as he settled into his pillows, weakness and pain tugging him into sleep, he reached up, and squeezed Bruce's hands.

"Thanks…" he murmured before exhaustion reeled him in. "Thank you for everything…"

Bruce squeezed his hand back.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Awwwwww, Batman and Robin, together at last! xD I know, what the hell? You made it all sappy at the end, melimsah!

I dunno if anyone liked that, but I liked writing it. Sorry that that's all I got for you, but let me know if you liked it. xD I just felt guilty leaving this abandoned on my hard drive... there's worse fanfiction out there...


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